


Checkmate

by CeruleanChillin



Series: Modern Assassins/Reader [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7496607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanChillin/pseuds/CeruleanChillin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor tries to out-slick the master. Good luck with that ma dude.</p><p>Modern Connor x Reader</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know why I can see Connor as a journalist, I just can. I could see him doing honest reporting and tackling legit issues. Looking all adorable at his desk covered with notes and his laptop. The reader bringing him a mug of coffee and telling him not to stress himself out.  
> Also I like the reader being this super chill photographer and Connor is Mr. Responsibility, but they respect each other’s differences enough for it to work out. This doesn’t have much point other than domestic fluff.
> 
> I’m going to be treading very carefully concerning Connor’s culture. I can’t remember what things Ubisoft specified (I think they made Connor’s tribe up right?) as part of his heritage, and I don’t want to be offensive. I’m also not sure about his language either, so I can’t promise accuracy. If I don’t do any of this justice I will not be offended/mad if you let me know.  
> I’ll be using his alias as well as his real name. 
> 
> Also Connor is 6’4 right? I swear I need a master post of their heights/birthdays/star signs.

Connor  
7:30am

Connor was a late to bed early to rise sort of guy. It didn’t matter how late he stayed up, he could be up with sun. You, on the other hand, were a different story. You could be in bed by six, and it would still take wild horses to get you out of bed in the morning. This was one of the many opposites between you and he, not that he minded. 

He pressed his lips to your forehead and smiled when your stirred. As he expected, your hand shot out and grasped his wrist. You tugged gently, not that you really could pull him anyways, and he kneeled on the mattress.

“I cannot.” He brushed his hand over your messy hair affectionately. 

“You can, you just won’t.” you murmured groggily.

“It is a weekday (Y/N), I have my schedule.”

“Fuck it…..better yet, get back in bed and fuck me.” You sat up and nipped at the sensitive spot below his ear.

Connor could feel his face set ablaze at your vulgarity. He knew when he met you that you could be a bit wild. He found your boldness, in the areas where he was more reserved, attractive. You admitted to him you liked his expressions when you shocked him. It didn’t matter how much time he’d spent with you; he’d never get over how easily crude words slipped from your lips. He also couldn’t deny that it was one of the biggest turn-ons he could think of.

“Nice try, but I am the organized one remember?”

“How can I forget? I think I’m on my eightieth lecture about dancing on the coffee table, and blasting my music for the neighborhood to hear.”

Connor shook his head at your dry tone, and accepted the grinning kiss you gave him. You placed your hand on the back of his neck, mouth opening when prompted. Connor took the opportunity of you distracted by his kisses, to slip his hand up your oversized t-shirt. Your body jerked, and he chuckled lowly at how responsive you were.

“I have not really touched you yet.”

“Arrogant.” You laughed against his lips.

“Truthful.” His reply came easily, as he was used to your banter.

Whatever you were going to say to him died on your lips as soon as Connor’s fingers found your heat. He played you like an instrument with practiced ease. Using your facial expressions and noises as a guide, he had you whispering his name until you were undone. His fingers worked you through your orgasm until your body settled back on the mattress. As your husband, one of the things Connor enjoyed most was bringing you pleasure. Seeing you unravel because of him gave him a high like nothing else.

“Konnorónhkhwa.” He breathed out before he’d even thought about it.

“I love you too.” You grinned lazily, eyes still closed in post-orgasmic bliss.

He pressed his lips to your forehead and stood back on his feet. 

Your eyes fluttered open with a look of confusion. “Still?”

“Yes, still.” He smirked at your look of shock. While he’d love nothing more than to get back in bed with you and give you what you both wanted, he knew if he did his whole day would be shot.

You huffed but gave him a soft smile. “Fine, but you’re making it up to me.”

“I intend to.” 

Bring his wife to ruin before breakfast? Check.

You  
10:00am

Connor would tease you if he knew that you’d pouted till you dozed off to the sounds of him in the shower. You were temporarily satisfied with the pleasurable, relaxed state he left your body in, and it made returning to sleep all the easier. 

You were pouting again for a different reason now, however. It was 10 o’clock, which meant that you’d missed Connor’s eight-thirty workout. Connor, with his muscles strained and glistening, was a sight to behold and you’d sacrifice sleep for it any day. Sometimes he even used his power of enticement to get you to work out with him.

‘Ah well.’ You thought kicking out of the warm cocoon you’d created, and heading into the bathroom.

Your bathroom routine was simple to you, but inefficient to Connor. You danced your way out of your clothes (he thought that was messy), music was your pre-cursor to coffee (he liked to start his day with quiet), and your showers were song and dance filled (he worried you would slip and hurt yourself one day). Yes, your routine may take longer than Connor’s (not that you’d admit it to him), but it set you up for a good day. Before you knew it, it was time for a late breakfast.

Being a freelance photographer allowed you great freedom over how you scheduled your days. You were free to do as you pleased in-between or before appointments, and that fit your nature perfectly. Connor, being a journalist, had deadlines that were beyond his control and fit his structured responsible nature.

‘I’d die.’ You thought getting on the counter and kneeling the way that Connor hated. He needed to understand that you weren’t 6’4 like he was. You had to play Indiana jones sometimes with the way that your kitchen was set up. You kept saying you’d change the location of the bowls and plates, but you had yet do so.

Another one of the many differences between you and Connor, was your eating habits. Connor was mostly health conscious and his choices reflected that. He was all nutritional cereals and fruit in the morning. You on the other hand, were all about your sugary cereals. Hey, you drank OJ so that counted for something right? Your eating habits rubbed off on each other too though. You could get Connor to indulge in thick red velvet waffles, and he could make you a delicious smoothie bowl every now and again. It was almost symbolic of your marriage overall.

You were seated at the island, humming and eyeing the growing grocery list on the fridge, when you heard a buzz on the island’s surface. It was Connor’s phone. Sometimes he worked from his home office, or sometimes he went to the newspaper’s office. You thought today was going to be the latter. You could see there were a series of text messages from Haytham, but the phone went dark before you could read them.  
You wondered if he and Connor were fighting again? There were periods of time where that happened, and you generally stayed out of it. Both men were stubborn beyond belief, and wouldn’t hear they were wrong when it came to each other.

You decided to leave it alone and finish your breakfast in peace. It’d only been five minutes since his text alert, before the house phone went off. You heard Connor’s office door open up down the hall. He probably thought you were still sleeping.

“I’m up, I’ve got it!” you called, snagging the phone on your way to the sink.

“Hello?” you leaned against the sink and placed the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“(Y/N)? What is it like seeing the world this early?”

“Ha ha Ziio,” You smiled at Connor’s mother’s playful tone. “Ratonhnhakè:ton will tell you, I’m getting better.”

“He will, but he is not trustworthy when it comes to you. He sings your praises regardless.” 

“Really? I didn’t know that.” You grinned at the thought of your husband having your back when you weren’t around.

“Do not feel bad. I would be asleep too if Haytham had not called me…complaining…as usual.” Your mother-in-law’s voice was nothing short of the bitter tone she reserved solely for Haytham.

You giggled. Connor’s parents had one of the funniest relationships you’d ever seen. Haytham and Ziio were separated, but maintained their relationship for Connor’s sake. Even though he was grown now, they both continued to make that effort for him. You found it sweet considering unlike you and Connor, their differences had broken them apart. You were rooting for them to work it out.  
Connor found gatherings with them awkward, though he loved them both. He generally found the comments they made about he and you, the filter they both lacked, and the stories from his youth he wanted to forget, insufferable.

“What about this time?” You asked. 

Ziio was like another mom to you. She treated you like the daughter she’d never had, because you loved her son, and in turn her, so openly. It was unheard of for you to go too long without speaking to her.

“Ratonhnhakè:ton has been ignoring his calls about confirming dinner tonight apparently. I have family visiting. I want the both of you there.”

You pushed off of the sink and walked over to the entrance of the kitchen. You’d never met Connor’s extended family and he was going to cheat you out of the chance? Absolutely not.

“I didn’t know there had been an invitation.” You glared at his office door. That explained all of the text messages, another of which had come since you’d been on the phone.

“Of course not. If I know my son, and I do, he was intending to forget it.”

“Don’t worry Ziio, we’ll be there. Time and place?”

“My house at seven, and tell Ratonhnhakè:ton I am excited to see him this evening.”

You smirked at the thinly veiled threat. If anyone could get your man together it was his mother, and you loved her for it. The 6’4 Native male would revert to a kid under the right look from his mom.

“Will do, see you then.” You chirped, already formulating how you would tell him.

“Thank you khesá:wha.”

You smiled at the warm referral to you, as her daughter-in-law.

Ziio bid you a loving goodbye and you put the phone back on the cradle. It wouldn’t be long till lunch time. What kind of a wife would you be if you didn’t fix your loving, honest husband something to eat?

Connor  
3:30pm

If it was one thing Connor couldn’t stand it was being disorganized, especially in the workplace. However, it was hard to stay organized when he was juggling three leads with another pending. The Aquila demanded prompt and honest reporting, and nothing less. He was good at that, but usually just one story demanded a lot of time. To add more than that had him pushing his limits.

It didn’t help that along with structuring his writing and studying his notes, he was trying to think up an excuse for his father. Haytham was not going to let up on him about coming to the family dinner. He knew his father was attempting to reconcile with his mother and he wanted to score brownie points. That being said, he did not want to be in the mix of Ziio’s family alone. They weren’t necessarily fans of his father. 

Connor didn’t want to go either. He loved his family and he did want to see him, but they were going to embarrass him far worse than his parents could ever attempt. He could just see the teasing and the bold questioning on his marriage. Of course you’d fit right in, like the free spirit you were, and he wouldn’t have a moment’s peace for hours. Yes, hours, because Ziio wouldn’t let him leave before anything less. You’d tease him with all of the new information you’d gotten from (your) his family. Then he’d be annoyed, and in no mood for the work that would be left for him. 

He frowned at the few words on the screen of his laptop and leaned his head back. He didn’t see, or hear you enter until you called his name. He looked up, and you were standing there with a glass of juice and a sandwich.

“I’m just checking on you. It didn’t seem like you were going to stop for lunch.” You waited for him to clear a spot on the desk. He did so, and you placed the things in your hand on the space.

“Skennenkò:wa, thank you.” He inclined his head towards you in a show of thanks.

“Are you sure?” you asked, and he was pleased you remembered that, that meant he was fine in his native tongue.

“Yes, but I appreciate this. I did not realize how much time had passed.” He hadn’t eaten much more than an energy bar that morning (which was very unlike him). He could tell you’d gone all out on the sandwich too.

He reached out for the plate only to have you slide it out of his reach. His brow furrowed in confusion and he reached out again. Once more you slid it away before he could touch it. What were you up to? He never knew what to expect with you.

“(Y/N) if you are not going to let me eat it, then why did you make it?” his dark eyes studied your expression to see if you were playing with him.

“I’m going to let you eat it, be patient.” You slipped behind him and before he knew it, your hands were kneading his shoulders.

He stuttered your name trying to get you to stop. He needed to eat and get back to work. What he didn’t need, was you lulling him into a relaxed state. Your hands felt inhumanly good on his strained shoulders. He let a moan slip from his lips, only to tense up again in embarrassment.

“See babe, don’t you need this?” Your voice was in his ear, and then your lips were on his pulse.

He tilted his head back, full bottom lip between his teeth. Your hands started traveling down his chest, gliding over the material of his shirt. His breath hitched and he was trying to organize his thoughts to tell you he needed to work.

“Ratonhnhakè:ton.” You whispered in his ear.

Sometimes you called him Connor, most of the time you called him by his real name. It really just depended on you, he hadn’t detected a specific pattern. One thing he knew though, was when you whispered his true name in that breathy whisper he would move the world for you. He’d never heard anything like it until you.

Your hands easily found his erection, with it straining against his jeans so obviously. You gave a slight squeeze and he shuddered. As quick as your hands had come, they were gone.

“On the other hand….I wouldn’t want you to ruin your appetite for tonight, maybe I should make you something smaller.”

It took him a moment to shake the fog from his brain, and realize that you were referring to the sandwich. Why?

“What do you mean? Are you making something special?” he still was in a trance, wondering how much he’d hate himself if he tossed the papers and took you on his desk.

You pressed your lips close to the corner of his mouth, carefully avoiding his attempts to make it a full kiss. You were acting weirder than usual, and that was saying something in his opinion.

“I’m not making anything, but your mother’s food is always amazing.”

He froze and reeled back from your touches. You’d found out about the family gathering. Dammit.

“(Y/N)-”

“That was your mom calling earlier,” you crossed your arms and glared at him. “Seriously Connor? You were just not going to tell me?”

You’d switched to using his nickname. Probably because you wanted to create a distinction between what you’d just done and now, as you were upset. How had he not anticipated Ziio? He’d been so wrapped up in his father.

“I did not think you would care this much. It is just dinner at my mother’s. We have done that many times before.” He was genuinely confused. He expected you to be annoyed maybe, but not as upset as you looked.

“It seems like my husband doesn’t want me to meet his family. I’m just a bit upset.”

Connor’s eyes widened. He didn’t want you to think that at all. He was never ashamed of you, nor did he want to hide your relationship. You were the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him. 

He reached out and grasped your waist, bringing you closer to him. You resisted at first, but he managed to get you to sit on his lap.

“(Y/N) that was not my reason for…forgetting about tonight.” He cleared his throat when you narrowed your eyes. Well he would’ve forgotten, if his father had left him alone!

“Well what was your reason then?” your shoulders were rigid, and you wouldn’t let him wrap his arms around you.

He mulled over how to tell you about his selfish reasons. They seemed silly to speak out loud, but he knew he’d still feel the same if they happened.

“It is…embarrassing.” He replied finally, his gaze averted from yours. He could feel his cheeks redden when he heard you snort.

“Ratonhnhakè:ton, you think everything is embarrassing. You’re too uptight sometimes, you know I don’t care about that.” Your fingers weaved through his soft hair and brushed it away from his forehead.

“It is not you I am worried about; you will fit in fine. I will be the one with a million embarrassing questions hurled at me, I will be the one getting pushed between relatives I barely remember, I will be the one whose mother thinks it is cute to bring out the baby pictures.” Connor cringed at everything he’d just spoken of.

“I love those pictures!” you exclaimed. He knew that already, you insisted on seeing them nearly every time you went to his mothers. He did not get the fascination. 

“I am aware.” He muttered, fully aware that he was pouting.

“I promise I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, ok? As long as you’re not ashamed of me then I’m fine.”

“No, no of course not.” He shook his head and grasped your hands. How could you think that of him?

“Then prove it and let’s go to your mom’s.” your eyes locked with his and he couldn’t resist after what you thought.

“Hen,” he nodded once, and he knew you knew that meant yes. “We will go…if that will prove it to you.”  
A slow smirk spread over your features and you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

You stood up and turned to him. “Good, because I already picked out what I’m wearing.”

Connor stared at you blankly before it dawned on him. You never thought he was ashamed of you. You did know better. You had tricked him into agreeing to go, without an argument on his part.

“Very clever.” He grumbled, you’d played on his need to keep you happy.

“I thought so,” you grinned. 

He had one last trick up his sleeve. He rose to his feet and walked over to you and took your chin in his hand.

“Of course we can always stay home and finish what we started this morning.” He pressed feather light kisses to your neck, smirking when your hands grasped his torso.

“We absolutely can, after we get home.”

Dammit.

**Author's Note:**

> Connor is literally me in this story. I love my fam, but get-togethers are stressful for me.  
> * Skennenkò:wa – I’m fine  
> * Hen – Yes  
> * Khesá:wha – My daughter-in-law  
> * Konnorónhkhwa – I love you


End file.
